


Mission:  Bericorn

by jadesparrow333



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Stanuary 2021, Stetson Pinefield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadesparrow333/pseuds/jadesparrow333
Summary: Stetson Pinefield, aka Stan Pines, is doing time in London, when he gets a ticket out- as long as he helps MI5 with a few projects.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Stanuary





	Mission:  Bericorn

**Author's Note:**

> Mabel and Dipper find "Stetson Pinefield's" passport with a stamp for London in it- since we never hear about it, I thought it might be fun to see what may have happened ;)

_ “I traveled the whole country- sometimes outside of it...looking for something that would be my big break.” _

_ Ah yes, the bearicorn head! You’re probably wondering how I got that. Well joke’s on you, ‘cause I’m not sayin’ nothin’! I know how this stuff works. You get comfortable talkin’, shootin’ the breeze, tellin’ stories, then  _ **_bam_ ** _ the next thing you know you’re locked up in a Colombian prison with two guys named Rico and Jorge who think you can’t understand Spanish and hope you die. _

_...You’re still here. Well, you look like someone who enjoys a good yarn. So howzabout this- I’ll tell you a completely fabricated, definitely didn’t happen, you-can’t-prove-anything story about where it came from, and you take this bearicorn head off my hands. By which I mean you pay full price for it. Up front, right now. Deal?  _

_ OK. It was a dark and stormy winter’s night in London, and a good looking young guy with a square jaw and really nice brown hair had just been shoved into the empty visitor’s area of the prison he’d been sent to a few weeks earlier... _

The sound of the door opening made the young man look up to see a not unattractive woman in a dress suit walk up to him. “Stetson Pinefield?” she asked.

The young man leaned forward in his chair, giving the woman a smirk. “That’s what it says on the records.”

A small smile played on the woman’s face. “Quite. I see you’re in here for one count of breaking and entering.”

“Hm.” the young man grunted noncommittally, his smile disappearing. 

“Although there seem to be several unproven incidents of the same thing...”

The man wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“And you also match the description of a conman who fleeced many citizens a few months ago…”

“What are you, a cop?” he asked, annoyed, realizing too late that the sentence wasn’t as clever as it usually was when it was said in a prison. 

“Worse-” the woman said, and pulled out an MI5 badge.

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” the man muttered, leaning his head back in exasperation. Then he paused, and looked across the table. “So, uh, what’s MI5?”

“MI5 is responsible for protecting the UK, its citizens and interests, at home and overseas, against threats to national security.” the woman said calmly, putting her badge back in her coat.

“Oh.”

“Right. Anyway,” the woman continued briskly. “I have an offer for you, Stetson. Or should I say  _ Stanley _ ?”

Stanley’s eyes grew wide. “How do ya know my-” he shook his head. “What  _ kind _ of offer?”

“There’s a little project my department has, and with your breaking and entering skills, you’re just the man for the job.”

“What skills?” Stanley huffed. “I got caught.”

“Only because your team sold you out,” the woman said, almost gently. “As I mentioned, there seem to be quite a few projects you got away with.”

“I ain’t saying nothin’,” Stanley answered. “Besides, I don’t work with others. I learned my lesson quick.”

“You can trust us, Stanley,” the woman said. “We’re the good guys.”

Stanley snorted. “Sure. And it’s Stan, by the way.”

“Stan. Lovely. You can call me Emma.” She extended a hand but was met with Stan’s sullen glare. She withdrew her hand. “I did try asking nicely. But now I must tell you- help us or we’ll have no choice but to not only keep you in prison, but also extend your stay for the other incidents, the cons, and entering the country under a false identity.” 

Stan stared at her for a moment, mouth slightly open in shock. “You’re not kidding.” he finally said.

Emma smiled. “I am not.”

Stan sighed theatrically, then he rallied and gave Emma a big grin. “All right. Sign me up. Heh.”

_ And so it was that the handsome young man found himself out of prison and on a heist in London. A few heists, actually. Emma told him that MI5 was trackin’ down this criminal organization called the Dark Hand, and needed Stan to steal specific objects before the Dark Hand could get to them. Emma acted as his handler, you know, the person who tells him where to go and what to steal, occasionally helping him on missions... that kind of stuff.  _

_ Turned out, Stan was good at what he did. He got the goods every time. And every time he’d hand them to Emma, then Emma would hand them over to MI5, then come back with another assignment. They got along well, and for the first time in a while Stan felt like he actually found his calling. It was a good coupla months.  _

_ Until one fateful day... _

Stan stood outside the MI5 building in a long coat and three piece suit Emma had provided him, holding a black briefcase in one hand and nervously adjusting his tie with the other. It was snowing and he was wishing he had brought an umbrella like everyone else around him seemed to have done.

“You clean up nicely,” a familiar voice called out to him, and he turned around to see Emma approach him, wearing a long black coat, a blue cocktail dress peeking through.

“Not so bad yourself, kid,” Stan gave her a lopsided grin and held out an arm.

“You know I’m a few years older than you Stan…I’m not a kid.” Emma replied with a smile.

Stan shrugged. “Sorry, boss. It’s an American thing. Don’t worry about it.”

Emma laughed. “You know, I wasn’t sure about you at first. But I’m honestly glad we picked you to help with this operation. I hope we’ll be able to work together in the future.”

“Say the word and I’m there.” Stan winked at her, and they walked over to a main street to get a cab.

  
  


Stan tried to act cool as they walked into the old manor house for the party, but he was having a difficult time. The house was huge, and old, and had tapestries, suits of armor, full sized taxidermy displays. There were party lights strung across the balconies overlooking the grand hall, adding extra sparkle to the jewels glistening on the necks, ears, and fingers of nearly every woman in the room. There was laughter and music, and the air practically buzzed with excitement. 

A waiter carrying a tray of appetizers walked by, and Stan promptly took four from the plate.

“You weren’t kidding when you said I’d like this one,” he said to Emma with a full mouth. Then he swallowed. “But I still don’t get why we hafta do this with all these people around.”

“It’s the best time,” Emma answered coolly in a quiet voice. “You’re already in the place, security is rather busy, and it’s easy to explain that things were all just a big misunderstanding if you get caught.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah… that’s really good.” he grinned. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Emma responded with a smile. “Ready?”

“I was born ready.” Stan grinned, adjusting his grip on the briefcase.

“Then follow me, Mr. Pines.”

Emma led them to a room on the other side of the grand hall, then up some stairs lined with worn carpet. The twists and turns in the darker halls had Stan a little dizzy, but he was able to keep a good sense of where they were relative to the grand hall. Finally they reached a wooden door that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a castle, and Emma slowly tried to open it. Locked. “I believe this is your area,” she turned to Stan with a small smile.

Stan put the briefcase down and knelt down to open it, removing a pair of black gloves and a roll of fabric, which he swiftly unspooled to reveal a set of delicate metal objects. He moved so the lock was at eye level, studied it for a moment, and then selected a few of the objects, carefully inserting them into the lock.

In under a minute he heard a click, and a grin spread over his face.

“That’s a new record,” he said proudly, closing his briefcase and standing up. “Ladies first,” he said.

Emma slowly pushed open the door, carefully walked through, and then poked her head back into the hallway. “Have a look,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

Stan warily went through the door to find himself on a balcony overlooking what appeared to be an enormous library. The chandeliers were not lit, but a roaring fire in the huge fireplace gave enough light to see the rows and rows of books, a few tables, several chairs, a harp, and more taxidermy.

As if that wasn’t impressive enough, several glass cases lined the room, filled with crowns, carved objects, and other items that were definitely worth a pretty penny. 

All the curse words Stan knew created a traffic jam in his brain, and the only thing that escaped was a phrase he had used as a kid. “Hot Belgian Waffles,” he breathed.

Emma chuckled softly. “Impressive, isn’t it? The last item the Dark Hand is looking for is in this room.”

“What is it?” Stan asked quietly, still taking it in.

“That bear’s head over the fireplace.”

Stan stopped. “Are you kidding me?” he hissed. “All this other stuff, and you want me to get  _ that _ ?”

Emma shrugged, apparently biting down a laugh. “Stan, I’m just doing what the analysts tell me. I can always ask after we turn it in.”

Stan stared at the library and all its treasures again. “Nah. It doesn’t matter.” He rolled his neck and once more knelt down with his briefcase. “I take it we’re up here ‘cause there’s something wrong with gettin’ in on the ground floor?”

“The doors are locked with a special combination dial on the outside. Like a safe. But what is really worrisome is the floor is full of pressure sensitive panels- if someone walks in that isn’t supposed to be there, an alarm will go off and a mechanism will lock the door from the outside, trapping that person inside until the authorities come.”

Stan whistled softly. “OK.” He studied the library and balcony for a bit, then took a rope out of his briefcase. “You up for helpin’ a bit?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Emma replied, taking gloves out of her handbag.

Stan grinned and began tying the rope in complicated patterns around the spindles in the balcony, then tied a couple of interesting knots around his waist with a few carabiners, making it so part of the rope could pull him up or let him down without it affecting the way it was holding him. “All right. This should give you enough leverage to pull me back and forth without too much strain. I’m gonna climb down the fireplace, grab that stupid bear’s head, and come on back to you. Then you pull me up and we get outta here- maybe sneak in a dance or two before we go.” 

Emma laughed softly. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner,” she said.

Stan gave her a wicked grin, climbed over the balcony, and used the chimney to rappel down to the bear’s head.

It was heavier than he’d thought it would be, but he clipped his rope and used both hands to pry it off the chimney. “Don’t look at me like that, pal,” he said to the bear with a chuckle. “I’m takin’ you to a better place.” He tugged at the rope. “Pull me up, boss, I got it!”

He handed her the bear’s head as he climbed over the balcony once again, and undid the rope from his waist. “Hey Ems, could you hand me my briefcase?”

“Sure,” Emma said, picking it up and walking towards him. “And Stan?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Thanks for everything.” she shoved the briefcase hard at Stan, causing him to lose his balance and flip backwards over the balcony.

The briefcase hit the ground with a thud, but Stan had grabbed on to the spindles of the balcony, and pulled himself up with a confused look on his face, breathing heavily with exertion and a sudden panic at the thought of falling.

“Emma, what-” he stopped as he saw the glint in Emma’s eyes.

“What am I doing?” she asked softly. “Setting up a patsy.” 

“A pat- but MI5 wouldn’t-”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Emma said, walking up to him and still holding the bear’s head. “They also wouldn’t pay me enough for everything I do. So I have to set up some projects on the side. And my job is  _ full _ of brilliant little tools to help me with my projects. Locations of artifacts I want, talent I can hire, leverage I can use… and at the end of the day, I get richer, my hires take the fall, and no one is the wiser.” Then she swung the bear’s head towards Stan to push him off-

Stan grabbed the taxidermied animal to soften the blow, but lost his balance, falling backward, hearing Emma’s shout of “No!” as the bear’s head flew up into the air. For a few brief moments there was only terrifying oblivion, then Stan landed on his back into the middle of the library, all the wind knocked out of him.

And the alarms started going off.

Emma loudly let out a frustrated yell, and Stan heard her run through the wooden door as he tried to get his breath back. His brain was foggy; the only thing he could think of was how he never wanted to fall again, never wanted to be that high up again, when he realized the alarms had stopped and the noise he was hearing instead was the sound of angry voices on the other side of the main door.

He got up, looking around for a way out, when he saw the bear’s head had landed on top of a taxidermied rhinoceros, the rhino’s horn having torn perfectly through the center of the bear’s head. “Heh,” Stan said through his brain fog, “It looks like the bear version of a unicorn…” he let out a punch-drunk laugh. “A bearicorn… a unibear?”

The sound of metal unlocking brought Stan back to earth, and he grabbed his briefcase and then, as an afterthought, rushed over to the bear head. If Emma had wanted it so badly, he wasn’t going to leave it behind. It was wedged pretty tightly on the horn, so finally Stan just broke it off and held it to his chest, running towards the door and flattening himself against the wall.

The door opened to reveal three security guards, who cautiously crept into the library…

And Stan hit the closest one upside the head with his briefcase and did what he did best- ran for his life into the snowy woods.

“Suckers!” he couldn’t help calling behind him, then picked up speed as he realized how close they were.

  
  


_ A few hours later he boarded the first international flight out of there, ignoring the stares of his fellow passengers. So what if they’d never seen a disheveled man in a nice suit holding a briefcase and a bear’s head with a horn stuck to it? He didn’t care what they thought, he was rich. Y’see, the bear head was full of cash- a hundred thousand British pounds, to be exact. Stan had no idea why, but he wasn’t going to question his luck at this point. One thing he knew, he was never going back to London again. Maybe his next stop should be someplace warm, tropical, relaxing. Someplace like… Colombia. _

_ What, you didn’t like the story? You don’t think the bear’s head would land perfectly on the rhino like that? Or that he would carry an awkward artifact while he was being chased? Or that Emma would just let him go? Well too bad for you, kid. That’s not my problem. You asked for a story, I gave you a story, and we don’t do refunds. Now get outta here… unless you wanna buy somethin’ else.  _

**Author's Note:**

> It's so hard to write Stan as an awesome criminal because he seems to lose some of his Stan-ness. So Stan gets to tell the story instead, and if you think it makes him look too cool, just blame it on his embellishments. ;)


End file.
